The Boyfriend Effect

by Kendall Ryan

  Parked in front of my duplex is a familiar Lexus, so I’m not terribly surprised at who I find waiting for me on my doorstep.

  “Hey, dove.” Hayes lounges on the steps, a lazy smile on his full lips. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, revealing intricate tattoos on his left forearm.

  The sight of him sends a shiver running down my spine.

  “Hey,” I say softly, giving him an awkward little wave. What is he doing here?

  “I thought we could talk options for Riverside. Are you free tonight? We could order dinner?” he asks, leaning his elbows against the top step.

  I doubt he realizes it, but this posture showcases his pecs like none other. It’s so unfair.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I say, my voice coming out a little breathless.

  He lifts one shoulder. “I know it’s been weighing on you, and I’ve been thinking on it since we had breakfast last week. I think I’ve come up with an idea that’ll work.”

  “Really?” I squeak, stepping around his limbs, trying my best to ignore how close his face is to my crotch. “Come on in.”

  Once we’re inside, Hayes settles into his usual spot on my couch, making himself right at home. It always blows my mind how shockingly natural he looks in my little apartment, almost as if he lives here too. Once again, it’s time to rein in my loopy imagination of what could never be.

  I kick off my shoes and join him on the couch, tucking my feet under me. “Thanks for this, Hayes. I never expected you to have any ideas.”

  “I’m thinking we host a fundraiser,” he says, his whiskey-colored eyes flashing to mine. “Some fancy event where we can charge a couple hundred dollars per ticket. There could be a raffle and silent auctions. Prizes, auction items, and catering can be donated, the works. What do you think? Would it work?”

  I can barely hear what he’s saying over the hammering of my heart, but from what I gather, it actually sounds like a really good idea. “I think we could do that.”

  “Great. Let’s write up a proposal. What do you want for dinner?” Hayes whips his phone out of his pocket, scrolling for his preferred delivery app.

  I nestle against his shoulder. Maybe I’m too physical with him, but I don’t care. With such ease, he’s blown in and swept the fog away. I can’t help but want to touch him. Thank him. Gain comfort from him.

  “Pizza sounds good,” I murmur, looking down at his phone screen.

  “Pizza, it is.”

  I watch him assemble the perfect pizza—sausage, green peppers, onions, and extra cheese. My heart flutters when I realize he’s memorized my favorite pizza, and that’s what he’s ordering. I have to remind myself that most friends know each other’s orders, and that this isn’t anything to read into. Scarlett proved that today at lunch, so of course Hayes knows my pizza order.

  “Okay, it should be here in a half hour. I’ll get my laptop, and we can start working on a game plan.” He stands and walks to the door where he left his bag to dig out his laptop.

  When he comes back and sits down, there’s a foot of space between us on the couch. It’s a little humiliating how bummed I am, but I try not to focus on it . . . too much.

  “All right,” he says, “so I’ll let you come up with some catchy name for the event. I can look into caterers while you make a list of potential auction items, and who we can approach for donations, yeah?”

  I nod, reaching for my own laptop, which is tucked under the coffee table. I reluctantly decide to give him the space he obviously wants, curling my legs beneath me as I get situated on the carpet. Once we’re both comfortable, we put our heads down and get to work. Before long, I’ve completely forgotten about pizza. Instead, my thoughts are wrapped up in gift baskets and experience packages.

  The door buzzer scares the living crap out of me, and it feels like I jump two feet in the air. Hayes openly laughs at my shock, which only causes my cheeks to grow redder and for me to roll my eyes in his direction.

  “Shut up and get the pizza,” I mutter, waving him toward the door.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says, standing from the couch.

  Staring at his jean-clad ass certainly does nothing to calm my jitters. How does he keep his butt so perfectly muscled?

  While Hayes moves our computers to make room for the pizza box and plates, I excuse myself to my room to change into something a little more comfortable. Closing the door behind me, I slip out of my pants and shirt so I’m standing in my underwear.

  Do I have to wear a bra around Hayes? I roll my shoulders, the straps pinching uncomfortably. Screw it, he won’t even notice. I reach around to unclasp my bra and let the straps fall from my shoulders.

  When I reemerge from my room, I’m wearing a loose, striped tank top and my comfiest leggings. Hayes glances at me, but then goes back to staring blankly at the muted television screen, his brow furrowed.

  “Thanks for waiting,” I say, leaning over the pizza to take the first slice from the box. When I offer the next slice to Hayes, he holds out his plate without even looking at me. Okay, then.

  “Want to watch something while we eat?” His voice is low and gravelly, and he still doesn’t look at me.

  “Sure.”

  I’m not sure how he knew that I needed this tonight. Pizza, movie, and a good friend. I’m not sure why, but that combination really makes most problems feel smaller.

  He turns the volume up, settling on whatever superhero movie is playing on a loop tonight. I sink into the couch next to him, enjoying the warmth of another person so close to me. But Hayes isn’t just any other person. We sit in silence through the opening credits. I take a bite of pizza, building up the courage to look at him.

  Hayes is already working on his next slice of pizza by the time I sneak a glance at him.

  “Do you want to stay for a while? I mean, at least until the movie is over?” I ask, barely recognizing my own voice. I sound much more sure of myself than I actually am.

  That tiny, mysterious muscle in his jaw twitches. The same muscle I see jump a lot when I’m around.

  “Sure, I’ll stay.”

  5

  * * *

  HAYES

  This is an interesting turn of events.

  My current status? I’m sitting on Maren’s couch watching a movie with her. Which is fine and nothing unusual.

  Except for the fact there’s a fence post in my boxer briefs right now, and I can’t let Maren know that. Uncomfortable, I shift my position, but it’s nothing compared to the embarrassment I’d feel if she knew how hot I get for her, and the reaction my body has when she’s around.

  What the hell is she doing in that flimsy tank top with nothing underneath? It’s taking every ounce of self-control to keep my eyes trained on the TV screen and not where they want to go.

  For now, I have to focus. At least the movie is good. And the pizza is fine, although what I want to be tasting is between her legs.

  Fuck.

  My focus lasted all of five seconds.

  New plan.

  Maybe some conversation will help take my mind off all the filthy thoughts running rampant through my brain.

  “So, uh, have you seen this one before?” I jerk my chin toward the screen, where the main character is scaling the side of a building with ease.

  Maren nods, her mouth full of pizza. She wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, just like I imagine she would after sucking me off.

  For fuck’s sake! Get it together, Hayes.

  “Are you kidding? It’s a classic,” she says after swallowing, crossing her legs underneath her.

  My brows rise with surprise. “I didn’t take you for a superhero movie buff.”

  She shrugs. “When you grow up with Wolfie for a brother . . .”

  I grunt in understanding, and a comfortable silence falls between us. The talking is helping, so I try to think of something else to say.

  “So, how are you—” I say, just as she says, “I was wondering—”

 
Maren giggles and nods at me, but I wave her on.

  “No, you go.”

  “I was going to ask about the caterers. Any luck?”

  Right. Shop talk. The reason I’m here.

  Saving her place of employment that’s also very near and dear to her heart is the goal, and of course, that’s where her mind’s at right now. I’m the only one who can’t keep his mind out of the gutter for more than two seconds.

  “Yeah, I got some good leads. Here, take a look.” I pull my computer from the coffee table and into my lap.

  Maren climbs up onto the couch next to me and nestles into my side. Thank God for the two pounds of plastic and metal in my lap, which is all that’s saving me from a world of sin right now.

  We scroll through the fruits of my labor while a fight scene plays in the background. Maren makes small sounds of approval at each website, which only makes it harder to keep my cool.

  “These are incredible,” she says, clutching my arm tighter and pressing her cheek into my shoulder. “Thank you so much, Hayes. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  I can think of about a million ideas . . . “Don’t mention it. I’m happy to help.”

  I put my laptop away again—the new laptop I had to buy to replace the one Sam tossed onto the sidewalk.

  The feeling of making Maren happy, of helping her when she needs it? It just might be better than sex. Not that I don’t want to test that theory out before drawing any conclusions.

  She lets go of my arm and throws her head back on the couch with a sigh of relief. “I feel so much better already,” she says happily. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty more to do, but it feels like things are looking up in all aspects of my life.”

  “Yeah? Even, uh . . .” I nod my head to her lap, and she stares back at me blankly. “You’re feeling better . . . down there too?” I shift my gaze briefly to her leggings before meeting her eyes.

  A pretty blush creeps over her cheeks and down her neck. She tries to suppress a smile and looks at the floor, shifting in her seat. “It’s still a little tender. But yeah, it’s almost all healed up.”

  I can still kiss it better. “Good. I was worried.”

  “You were worried about my . . . down there?”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. “No, I mean—in a medical sense. I just want you to be safe and healthy, dove.”

  “Oh. Right.” Her chest stutters with an inhale.

  My voice drops lower. “Burns should be taken seriously. Especially on . . . delicate parts of the body.” Why the hell am I still talking?

  “You didn’t say anything to my brother, did you?”

  “Of course not.”

  She sighs, blowing out a slow breath. “He’d never let me hear the end of it.”

  You and me both.

  There’s no telling exactly what Wolfie would do or how he’d react if he found out his best friend and his kid sister were talking about the state of her pussy, but something tells me he wouldn’t be too stoked.

  “What he doesn’t know won’t—”

  I stop mid-sentence. Maren isn’t listening to me. She’s pretending to watch the movie. But really, she’s curled up in a ball with her head in her hands, tears welling up in her eyes and her shoulders shaking.

  “Dove, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just so embarrassed,” she whispers. “First the waxing accident, and now Riverside. You must think I’m a mess.” She swipes at the corners of her eyes, giving me a sad look that devastates me.

  “Come here.”

  I pull her into me, looping my arm around her shoulders, and she lays her head on my chest. It breaks me to hear her talk about herself that way. Maren’s the last person who should be feeling guilty about anything. And I want to make sure she knows it.

  “I’m here because I want to be, okay? Not because I feel bad, and certainly not because I pity you. You’re strong, smart, and beautiful. Shit happens, and we all need a little help sometimes.”

  “You really think I’m beautiful?” she asks, sniffling.

  Fuck. This girl will be the death of me.

  I smirk, trying to downplay how spectacularly I just stuck my foot in my mouth. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  We stay like that for the rest of the movie, Maren with her head on my chest, and me doing my best to train the crouching tiger in my pants. It didn’t take long for her to stop crying and relax into me. Let’s just say tonight proved she’s really not big on personal space.

  If Maren knew all the ways I’ve fantasized about taking her—pushing her hard up against a wall, bending her curvy ass over a table—she’d be horrified. She certainly wouldn’t come willingly into my arms, or hang all over me like I’m her personal jungle gym.

  I know a lot about women, both from my time in the dating scene and because of my job. But I don’t know much about matters of the heart. The human heart confounds me. Like, how can I feel so many things for Maren, but be too chickenshit to do anything about them?

  Shortly after the movie ends, I rise to my feet and Maren walks me to the door.

  “Thanks for coming over tonight.”

  I nod, trying not to look at her chest. Yeah, lingering would only leave more time for temptation. “Of course. It’s actually helping me too, you know.”

  “How’s being here helping you?” She shoots me a questioning look.

  I shift, suddenly wishing I hadn’t said anything. But now that I have, I know Maren won’t drop it, so I might as well be honest. “With my self-imposed break from dating, I have more free time on my hands.”

  Maren’s expression turns thoughtful, and she nods. “We can help each other then.”

  “I’d like that.” As the words leave my mouth, I realize they’re absolutely true.

  Her lips part, breaking into a happy grin. “You sure you’re not going to mind when I point out all the ways you absolutely suck as a boyfriend?”

  This pulls a laugh out of me, despite my uneasy mood. “I do not suck as a boyfriend.”

  Maren narrows her eyes. “Hayes.”

  I chuckle. “Fine. Lay it on me.”

  She leans against the doorframe, appraising me with a cool expression. “First of all, contrary to popular belief, women do not like dick pics. And they show them to their friends, you know?”

  Clutching my chest in mock horror, I smirk. “I’m not a total caveman. I would never.”

  “Ever?” she asks.

  “My dick has never been photographed. Promise.”

  Maren laughs. “That’s good. And you know all that stuff about women being the fairer sex is garbage, right?”

  I shift my weight. “Mostly?” I say, my voice rising. “But I’m still going to open doors and pay for first dates.”

  She bites her lip, still watching me. “There may just be hope for you yet.”

  I nod, suddenly feeling unsure.

  Back at my apartment, I enter to find the kitchen bright and welcoming. Leave it to Rosie to always leave a light on. I grab a glass from the shelf and fill it with water before walking to her door and giving it a soft rap.

  “Oh, good. You’re alive,” Rosie says sarcastically.

  With a chuckle, I push the door open to find her tucked into bed, curlers in her hair and a book in her lap.

  “Brought you some water.”

  She grunts, narrowing her eyes. “Where were you out so late?”

  “With Maren. She needed some help. Riverside stuff.”

  “It sounds like you’ve been spending a lot of time with Maren lately.” Her eyes widen suggestively.

  “I was just helping a friend. You know that.”

  “Mmm.” She looks skeptical.

  “Good night, Grandma.”

  “Good night, sweetheart.”

  I close the door to her room and walk across the apartment to mine. Once alone with my thoughts, I finally let myself breathe easy for the first time all night.

  I did it. I survived. I made it one night alon
e with Maren without putting my hands all over her.

  And it was absolute fucking torture.

  Okay, this is harder than I thought it would be—the whole look but don’t touch thing we have going on. She doesn’t play fair. Maybe because this isn’t really a game. It’s real life. And my relationship with my best friend and business partner is on the line.

  But there’s more to it than that, because now Maren needs my help. We only have a month to save Riverside. I have no idea when this became important to me, but it did. I have to see Maren succeed.

  Even seeing her waver for a second tonight broke me. Maybe because Riverside was the safe place she came after school to see her grandfather, back when he was still alive. Maybe because it’s where she works now, and I don’t want to see her laid off and suddenly thrust into the job market. But more than any of that, Maren wants this, plain and simple. So I want it for her too, and I’ll do whatever I can to make it happen.

  Damn, if she doesn’t make all of this so complicated. Being with her tonight, just sitting there looking into her wide eyes and at her pretty little mouth was enough to drive me crazy. Add in the memory of how good she looked and felt curled next to me, and hello, fence post, my old friend.

  I take a deep breath, fighting to get myself under control.

  But then I remember her telling me about her pussy. That it’s almost healed, but still tender. The innocent blush that crept over her cheeks as she spoke.

  It’s no use. She’s ruined me.

  I can’t let myself commit the cardinal sin of fantasizing about my buddy’s sister.

  So I do what any man would do.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, bite the inside of my cheek, and jack my cock alone in the darkness of my bedroom, praying that karma doesn’t really exist.

  6

  * * *

  MAREN